


Like a Smoking Gun

by Perkalil



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Au of sorts, Blood and Injury, Character Death, F/M, Inner Dialogue, Sad Ending, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perkalil/pseuds/Perkalil
Summary: An AU where Paul comes back for Emma at that helicopter, but things do NOT work out. It's quarantine time, and I can finally get back to writing.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Like a Smoking Gun

**Author's Note:**

> After nearly two months, I'm publishing something! This came out of my brain after writing down the words "helicopter wreckage", so enjoy!

Emma hissed through her teeth, her eyes looking everywhere but at her leg. She didn’t want to look at it any more than she needed to, the pain radiating from her thigh was enough of a reminder that she was fucked. She couldn’t stand, let alone run from an alien horde. She was a sitting duck, surrounded by the debris from the helicopter that impaled her leg and left her for dead. The plume of smoke rising from the wreckage might as well be a giant screen, blaring “Come get me! I’m right here and ready to get torn to shreds!” She’s alone and unprotected; totally fucked.

Well, she wouldn’t be alone, if she hadn’t sent him away. Paul. She didn’t know him, not really, the most personal they had ever gotten was when she told him about Jane and he told her about his hatred for musicals. She did know his coffee order; one grande black coffee and a tall caramel frap, but it’s not like she knew his family or dated him. But if it were up to her, she’d want him by her side, keeping her calm and telling her stupid stories about work to keep her from thinking about her leg and the rebar and the whole goddamn apocalypse. Great, now she was thinking about it again and that makes the pain  _ so much worse _ . Against her will, Emma started whimpering to try to distract herself from the pain. She brought her arms around her chest and laid on the ground, trying to steady her ragged breathing. She can hold on, until Paul gets back. She can hang on for Paul.

She wasn’t left defenseless, at least. Paul had taken the grenade belt that the PEIP guy, MacNamara or whoever the fuck, had given him. But he left the small handgun for her, in case something tried to come at her. Paul had left it right next to her, so she could reach for it without moving her leg and hurting herself more. A clean shot to the head, and the infected would be dead. That’s what Hidgens had done to Charlotte and her cop husband, and as far as she knew they were both still goners. But fuck, what does she know, it could have been for show, Hidgens had wanted to be one of those fuckers. Okay, Emma, she thought, focus. The more you think about all this shit, the worse waiting for Paul is gonna be. Just focus on Paul. Focus on breathing. 

Emma tried to keep her focus on Paul and her breathing, but the more time she spent in the middle of the wreckage, the more her mind began to wander. What if some infected alien shits did come to the smoke? What if they found her and she couldn’t defend herself? It was supposed to be a helicopter for PEIP, so what if they send more soldiers? Could Paul make it back here in time to be saved? Could  _ she  _ make it until help arrived?

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, letting her mind wander and wish in vain for a rescue mission, but the sound of footsteps crunching on the glass and gravel brought her to her senses. With some effort, Emma propped herself up on her hands, inching back to try and find the still-warm shell of the helicopter to brace her back on. She needed her hands free, she needed the gun, she had to keep herself alive and shoot whatever fucking thing was coming around the—

“Emma?” The voice sounded from the other side of the helicopter. It sounded like Paul, but she wasn’t too sure. Her brain was getting a little fuzzy and it was hard to process things. Shit. She’s lost a lot of blood. “Emma, are you still here?”

Her hands swept the ground beside her, fragments of glass biting at her palm until she found the cool metal of the gun handle. She wrapped both hands around the weapon as the figure turned the corner and came face to face with Paul Matthews. But he looked… different. Emma blinked a few times, trying to clear her swimming vision. He was standing lopsided, like one of his legs was hurt. His arms hung limply at his sides, and his mouth was hung open in shock. But it was his clothes that sent Emma’s pulse pounding, her breathing growing sharp and shallow. His office getup was torn, holes in the fabric like he had been burned. His white dress shirt was spattered in blue blood, blue fluids. There wasn’t a spot of crimson on him.

“Emma! It’s me, I stopped the infection! I went to the Starlight, and you were right, the second I threw a grenade at that meteor, the Hive went insane. I just kept throwing until no one moved anymore, then I came right back here.” Paul stepped towards her, his hands reaching out in front of him like some sort of peace offering. “Emma, we’re safe. We made it!”

“Prove it.” Emma’s voice shook and she readjusted her grip on the gun. She watched Paul’s comforting smile falter, his eyebrows draw close together in confusion. “Sing. Prove you weren’t infected by those fuckers.”

“Em—” Paul took a step closer to her and she cocked the gun, her fingers trembling from the effort. She blinked hard again, and could have sworn he plastered on a too-big smile. “It’s me. I don’t like musicals, you know that. Paul, the guy who doesn’t like musicals, hates to hear that tip song at Beanies, only drinks black coffee.” 

“The Paul I know would sing and get it over with.” Emma looked at him as coldly as she could before blinking the spots out of her vision. Paul seemed to register the words slowly, his advance coming to a halt. It was like a switch had flipped in his head. 

“Emma, you don’t think I’m one of them?” He gestured quickly to his clothes. “Look at me! I blew up the theater, there’s no one left! The Hive is gone, we’re safe. We don’t have to worry, Emma, we survived the apotheos—”

**_BANG!_ **

Emma’s eyes widened at the same time Paul’s did, her hands dropping the gun. She flinched as the metal made contact with her skin; the barrel was still smoking. Emma watched as Paul’s hands clutched at his chest, and as he pulled them away to look at his palms, she screamed. His hands were red. Bright red. He was human, not infected. He hadn’t been lying. 

Oh, God. She just _shot_ Paul.

The blood spread quickly across his shirt as he fell to his knees, creating a nauseating violet hue across his front. Emma pushed herself off from the helicopter and heaved her way to his side as Paul collapsed on the ground. She pulled his head into her lap, sobbing and mumbling incoherent apologies. Paul’s eyes fluttered and met hers as she ran her fingers through his hair harshly.

“Paul, I’m sorry, oh god, I’m so sorry!” She managed to get out. Her leg felt like it was on fire and everything was moving too quickly. She felt like she was underwater; her ears are muffled and she couldn’t hear anything over her own breathing and thrumming heartbeat. She felt Paul shift in her lap and watched as he took her hand in hers. She sniffled weakly and looked back at his face. His eyes were kind, looking at her with understanding. He patted her hand with his own, bringing a fresh wave of tears to Emma’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I— I—” 

“Emma,” Paul spoke softly, breaking off to cough. Emma whimpered as she saw the spots of crimson on his lips. “I wanted to say that—”

“Shh. Wait, don’t speak.” Emma caressed his cheek, looking up to check their surroundings, “Um, PEIP should be coming, right? When we didn’t show up, reinforcements should be coming, won’t they?” She craned her neck to try and see further into the night. “Fuck, they’ll come, won’t they?!”

“Em,” Paul began again, “Just listen, I don’t,” his sentence was punctured by a labored wheeze, “have much time.”

Emma looked back down at him and cradled his face in her hands. “Don’t say that, it’ll be okay. PEIP will come and we’ll go to a hospital, probably in Clivesdale somewhere.” She jerked her head to the sky as a low whirring noise grew steadily louder. “Hear that, Paul? That’s a fucking helicopter! It’s backup!” 

A sleek black helicopter burst through the smoke and dreary Michigan clouds and sped across the sky, pulling up to try and land in the field nearby. Emma gripped Paul’s hand tightly, the whirring of the helicopter too loud for them to speak. With a grunt of effort, she waved her free arm above her head, trying to get the attention of the officers who were pouring out of the chopper. After a moment, one of the soldiers began to approach the wreckage briskly, and Emma laughed. 

She looked down at Paul, relief and excitement bright in her eyes. But Paul’s eyes were closed. His head lolled in her lap as she shook his shoulder lightly. Emma tried calling his name, but over the sound of the helicopter blades, she couldn’t be heard. Emma called his name over and over, and her gentle shaking became frantic and jerky the longer Paul didn’t respond. She let go of his hand, and it hit the ground limply. Emma, tears in her eyes and her head swimming, screamed Paul’s name over and over, her eyes never leaving his pale face. 

When the PEIP soldiers reached the pair, Emma was still screaming, her voice barely registering over the sound of the helicopter. Several soldiers lifted Emma from the ground to try and get her to the chopper, but she resisted, trying to smack away their hands to stay next to Paul. But she was weak, in so much pain from her leg that her whole body burned at their touch, and she was suffering from too much blood loss to resist long. They hoisted her into a standing position with a shrill cry, and guided her to the helicopter, away from Paul’s body that was now surrounded by three other soldiers. Emma did not stop screaming and crying, pulling weakly at the soldier’s grip in a vain attempt to get back to Paul. She felt a small prick in her shoulder and felt her body begin to sag. Her vision was swarmed with black spots and she sunk into a solder’s side, still calling out mutely to Paul as she slipped into unconsiousness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Kudos and comments are always appreciated 💕


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